


What are you doing with your whole life

by pearl_o



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Banquet, Rings, losers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: A year ago, Victor was in a different hotel room, in a different country, staring up at a different ceiling from a different bed.This is much, much better.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cesare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/gifts).



> For Ces, who poked me to actually write it and bribed me with great fic in return.
> 
> google docs title for this fic: "ringkink handjob."

When they get back to their room, Yuuri heads straight to the shower. Without Yuuri to hold on to, Victor takes the second best option and, as soon as he's rid himself of his shoes and jacket, flops down onto the bed. 

Beds, technically; one of them is his and one is Yuuri's, but pushed together like this there's no way to tell whose is whose, no distinction to be made at all. It's theirs.

Victor smiles up at the ceiling. He feels like he's been smiling all night. He probably has. Yuuri kept his alcohol consumption low this year, but he let Victor bring him two flutes of champagne to sip and toast with, and unsurprisingly two-champagne-Yuuri is just as delightful as every other version of Yuuri Victor has encountered so far. Quiet and a little flushed, soft and happy. He held Victor's hand all night.

A year ago, Victor was in a different hotel room, in a different country, staring up at a different ceiling from a different bed. He didn't sleep at all that night. His mind wouldn't stop racing long to let him, not when his entire world had been turned upside down so easily by one startling, ridiculous, beautiful boy.

"I think I'm in love," Victor had whispered into the empty room, a secret for nobody to keep. It's strange to think about now, in hindsight. How little he'd known then! That was infatuation, sparkling and sweet, but now…

Now he knows what love is. Thanks to Yuuri.

Victor rolls onto his side and stretches towards the pillows at the head of the bed. Yuuri's medal is tucked underneath one--Yuuri had spent some time last night trying to convince Victor to kiss it after all, but Victor had stood his ground despite the cajoling, though he hadn't managed to keep a straight face at some of the faces Yuuri pulled. 

Victor tugs the medal out now and lifts it up, so it dangles above him. It's funny. A year ago he had just won another gold medal, but it didn't mean nearly as much to him as this silver does right now. 

He's still looking up at it, feeling thoughtful, when he hears the rustling of Yuuri coming back from the bathroom. Victor redirects his gaze immediately and soaks in the sight of Yuuri in his bathrobe and glasses, softer and younger-looking than usual in his wet and rumpled state.

"What are you doing?" Yuuri says.

Victor can't quite shrug lying down like this. He lowers the medal to the bed, setting it back by the pillows and out of the way as he sits up. "Nothing," he says. "Waiting for you."

Yuuri makes a thoughtful humming noise. "It's probably a good thing you're getting comfortable with it," he says. "If we're going to be skating against each other, you're going to have to get more used to silver."

Victor's distracted by the subtle smirk that crosses Yuuri's face as he talks, so it takes a second for the meaning of the words to fully penetrate. As soon as they do, Victor gasps dramatically. "Yuuri!" 

He places his hand over his heart, as if he's deathly wounded instead of delighted by Yuuri's confident swipe at him. Sadly, Yuuri's not paying him proper attention: he's already turned away and headed towards his suitcase and presumably his pajamas.

That won't do at all. Victor leaps off the bed and pulls Yuuri into a hug from behind before Yuuri can make the mistake of putting on more clothing. 

"Yuuuuuri," Victor says, nuzzling his nose against the warm, damp nape of Yuuri's neck, under the collar of the robe. It makes Yuuri sigh, just like Victor thought it would.

"You are," Yuuri says. Victor waits to see if Yuuri is going to continue the sentence, but all he does is chuckle to himself. 

Victor tightens his grip around Yuuri's waist and buries his head against Yuuri's shoulder. The fabric's soft and fluffy against his cheek, but he can feel the solidity and strength of Yuuri's body beneath it. 

"Do you want--" Yuuri says, very quietly, and Victor knows from experience that Yuuri's not going to finish this question. Victor's not sure why he even has to ask; God knows Victor makes himself perfectly obvious most of the time. Surely Yuuri must know exactly what Victor wants by now.

(And to be fair, Yuuri doesn't _always_ ask. Sometimes that confident Eros spirit is still with him, and he drags Victor along, pushes him down or makes him wait; that's always thrilling. Other times Victor can just _see_ Yuuri decide, the determination and want coming over his face, before he makes his move.)

"I want you to come to bed with me," Victor says. It doesn't sound as romantic as he wishes, but it makes Yuuri shiver in his arms, which is just as good. "Unless you're too tired?"

"No," Yuuri says. He reaches down to pick up one of Victor's hands from around his waist, and brings it up to kiss the knuckles. Yuuri would have won the romance competition even if Victor phrased his words better. "Not too tired."

In Victor's fantasies he loves to think about dropping to his knees for Yuuri. Letting himself glide to the floor and devote to himself to Yuuri's dick or ass while Yuuri holds himself up, balancing his hands on the wall or Victor's shoulders as Victor worships him.

Sadly, given the state of Victor's knees these days, it's not a particularly practical position for him to hold, not for very long, and certainly not without some sort of cushion or mat. Doubly true now that Victor's going to be competing again, really. 

That just means he has to guide Yuuri back over to the bed, instead, lie him down like an undeserved present. Victor arranges himself along Yuuri's side, propping himself up on his elbow. He's planning to take a moment to look Yuuri over some more and appreciate him, but Yuuri doesn't give him a chance. "Victor," he says, more of a breath than a real word, and he pulls Victor closer and kisses him.

Yuuri is very strong. People forget that. But his arms around Victor are secure and comforting and his kiss is not at all shy, and he still smells like soap and shampoo, and when Victor slips his hand into the robe the skin of Yuuri's chest and his side is warm and soft, and--honestly, it would be very easy for Victor to forget what he was thinking about and just keep doing this. It's very tempting. 

He tells Yuuri so, in between kisses.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri says, not sounding very sorry. Yuuri can be somewhat sarcastic sometimes, Victor finds. "I didn't realize you had something all planned out."

Yuuri is still wearing his glasses, but they are all askew now from the kisses, which is very adorable. 

In lieu of a response, Victor beams at him and slides down the bed. He unties Yuuri's robe with a small flourish--so convenient!--and drags his hand down Yuuri's stomach. He stops with his palm flat, just above Yuuri's dick, which is starting to swell and fill in anticipation. 

"Victor," Yuuri says, in that tone of voice Victor has only ever heard from him in bed, in quiet nights in Victor's bedroom in Hasetsu, like a shared secret between them. Victor wets his lips, but he waits until Yuuri starts to squirm a little before he takes Yuuri into his grip and moves forward to lick at him.

He rubs his cheek against Yuuri's cock, presses closed-mouth kisses along his length, sighs against the head to let Yuuri feel the heat of his breath: all the little teases and promises he knows, until Yuuri is fully hard and straining for him, and Victor can take him fully into his mouth and give them both some relief.

It feels natural to find the rhythm of his hand and his mouth, the music of Yuuri's body and Victor's together. Victor knows perfectly well how ridiculous sex is, how awkward and ungainly, and he's certainly no exception. But the heavy weight of Yuuri's gaze on him makes him feel graceful nonetheless. It makes him want to preen and flirt and perform, for his private audience of one.

Tomorrow Yuuri flies back home, and the seat next to him, _Victor's _seat, will be empty. There's simply not enough time, if Victor's going to be ready to compete again at Nationals. And Yuuri will be returning to him, very soon, but it's still difficult to let him go, when everything in Victor wants to keep him close.__

___I love you_ , Victor thinks. He knows how to say it in four languages, but it doesn't sound right in any of them. Yuuri's making noises now, soft and choked off like he always keeps them, and his hips are moving, and his fingers are tangled gently in Victor's hair. Victor used to hate it when boys touched his hair during blowjobs--that was something about the long hair, especially, that they seemed to gravitate towards every time--but it's different when Yuuri does it._ _

__When Yuuri tightens his grip suddenly, Victor thinks he can feel the pressure of Yuuri's ring against his scalp. Just like that he's completely and utterly aware of his own body. He had lost himself somewhat in the blowjob, in concentrating so thoroughly on Yuuri's reactions and responses. But that touch is enough to recenter him. He realizes suddenly how very aroused he is himself. He could come easily simply from going down on Yuuri like this. But no, no, Victor wants...he wants…_ _

__He wants to make Yuuri come, to hear that strained intake of breath, to feel the way every muscle in Yuuri's body goes stiff and still in that split second before he falls apart, to taste the thick bitter salt fill his mouth._ _

__Victor's panting a little as he pulls off, and he can't help but shoot Yuuri a smug grin even as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Whatever semblance of grace he might have managed earlier is surely gone by now, but he manages to scoot up the bed again before collapsing half on top of Yuuri and kissing him again._ _

__"Mmm," Yuuri murmurs between their lips, right before he rolls them over, until Victor's on his back. Yuuri kisses him again, but pulls away fast and sits up. Part of Victor wants to complain about that--he would like more kisses, thank you--but a bigger part of him has to acknowledge that it is unfair to complain when one is in bed with a naked Katsuki Yuuri straddling you. So instead he places his hands squarely on Yuuri's hard thighs and counts himself lucky._ _

__"Victor," Yuuri says, drawing out the name a little more than he usually does. His eyes are full of fun and mischief now. Victor always thought people just got sleepy from orgasms, but Yuuri always seems energized, at least from the first one. It's probably the same stamina that lets him do those quads so late in his programs._ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__"Did you know you're still wearing all your clothes?" Yuuri asks._ _

__Victor considers this. "Yes."_ _

__Yuuri raises one eyebrow. "Do you want to do something about that?"_ _

__Victor considers this question as well. "What I want," he says thoughtfully, "is for you to pull my cock out of my pants, spit on your hand, and jerk me off until I come. Yes?"_ _

__The words make Yuuri draw in a breath, and his face and his entire upper chest flush a deep pink. Victor doesn't speak as crudely as this very often, and he wouldn't want to, but Yuuri seems to like it on those occasions it comes out._ _

__"All right," Yuuri says. He shifts backwards a little and turns his attention to Victor's belt and the fly of his trousers. Victor keeps his own gaze squarely on Yuuri's face._ _

__This is another thing that reminds Victor of when Yuuri skates: those scattered instances when Yuuri is so lost in that focus that all those other things, the self-consciousness or second guessing, can fall away for a little while in the face of Yuuri's concentration. Victor has sat at the Ice Castle watching for hours before without Yuuri ever seeming to notice he's there, and not even felt ignored._ _

__The feeling of Yuuri's fingers wrapping around his erection makes Victor's entire body jerk as he lets out a short and fervent _ah_ ; his hold on Yuuri's thighs tightens, thumbs digging hard into the muscle. Yuuri lets him go almost immediately, but only long enough to fulfill Victor's request and spit into his palm. It's louder than Victor is expecting, somehow, and even more obscene-sounding. _ _

__His toes curl as Yuuri finally starts stroking him off properly. He's really very close already, he realizes. Yuuri's weight is solid enough that Victor doesn't have much leverage to thrust up against him, but when Yuuri twists his wrist in a certain way at the end of the tug, Victor can't help but arch his back and throw his head back against the mattress._ _

__"No, keep your eyes on me," Yuuri says, in that same quiet voice._ _

__As if Victor has ever really been able to look away. He forces his eyes to stay open and meet Yuuri's gaze, which is soft and fond and pleased and almost painfully open._ _

__There are a million things Victor could say, if he knew how, but what comes out of his mouth, hoarse and scratchy, is "Tighter."_ _

__Yuuri squeezes him tighter, works him faster, and with every stroke Victor swears he can feel the gold of their ring brushing against where he's most sensitive, dragging against his skin. He's thinking about that, that and Yuuri's smile, when he comes._ _

__In the aftermath of his orgasm, Victor feels floppy and boneless and content, a Victor-shaped pile of goo spread across the bed. Yuuri kisses the corner of his mouth and then rises up and away, and Victor doesn't object more than waving a hand in his general direction._ _

__Yuuri returns a minute later, clothed now in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt instead of his bathrobe. He pokes Victor gently until Victor moves and allows him to draw back the sheets and crawl in. Victor rouses himself enough to wriggle out of his own clothes, down to his underwear, tossing them to the floor before he joins Yuuri beneath the covers._ _

__Yuuri's lying on his side, facing toward Victor. Victor mirrors his position, letting their feet and legs tangle together (even though Yuuri's feet are, as usual, unnecessarily chilly). Yuuri's already set his glasses aside. He blinks at Victor sleepily._ _

__With a great deal of self-restraint, Victor resists the urge to boop Yuuri's nose. Instead he reaches his hand out, fumbling until he finds Yuuri's to hold._ _

__"When I'm in Russia and you're in Japan…" Victor says._ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__Victor rubs his thumb against the solid gold band. "Kiss it when you perform and it'll remind you that I'm there in spirit. I'm watching you and I have complete faith in you. Remember that I'm with you."_ _

__Yuuri draws in a long, deep breath. He says, "Will you do that, too?"_ _

__Victor imagines it: himself on the ice, bringing his hand up to his lips. He's always felt that he was on his own when he skated, but that's not true anymore. Yuuri's shown him that. He wouldn't be skating again, if he didn't know that. "Yes," Victor says, "yes, of course."_ _

__Yuuri smiles again, small but lovely. He shifts a little, and Victor thinks he is going to kiss him again, but no; he merely rests his forehead against Victor's and sighs._ _

__"It won't be very long at all," Victor says. He doesn't sound very convincing, even to his own ears, which is probably because he doesn't really believe it. When he left Yuuri in Moscow, they were only separated a few days, and that was so difficult--what will it be like when it is weeks, instead?_ _

__"I know," Yuuri says. "You'll be so busy it will go by like nothing."_ _

__What's funniest about that is that it probably _would_ be true, for the Victor he was before. Skating was his whole life, almost as far back as he can remember; when was there ever time to think about anything else? And yet here he is, more excited to perform than he's been in ages, and yet he's certain he's going to be counting down all the moments he's alone, until his boy and his dog come home to him._ _

__"You don't think I could still convince Yakov to come to us in Hasetsu instead of us coming to him in St. Petersburg?" Victor says wistfully._ _

__"No."_ _

__"No," Victor agrees. "All right. Fine. But when you get home, remember that I made Minako promise to tell me if you eat a giant bowl of katsudon."_ _

__Yuuri makes a scoffing noise._ _

__"I told your mother on the phone yesterday! You didn't win, Yuuri, and those are the rules. And more important," he adds, "I'm not going to get any, and you can't eat it without me! That's not fair. You'll already be getting all of Makkachin's cuddles."_ _

__"Stop being silly and just go to sleep, Victor," Yuuri says. His eyes are closed now, which means Victor has the opportunity to admire the way his lashes fan across his cheek._ _

__"Okay," Victor says._ _

__He doesn't, though. He keeps his eyes open and watches Yuuri for a while longer in their quiet dark room, listening to Yuuri's even steady breaths and letting himself drift in this giddy lightness in his chest that he can't put a name to._ _


End file.
